The Benefits of Observation
by pagerunner
Summary: Shepard in armor is one thing. Shepard in a form-fitting leather dress... that's something else entirely. Thane/Shepard, set during the course of ME2.


What finally sealed the deal that night was Shepard telling Thane, "You've looked all night like you wanted to get me alone."

She sounded smug about it, and perhaps she had the right. The dress and the mission had both been Kasumi's ideas, and both had been wild successes - but Thane's concern was primarily the former, because that sleek leather garment was hugging Shepard's body in so many intriguing ways that he hadn't been able to tear his gaze away since she'd returned to the ship.

Now, after a celebratory drink and conversation with the rest of her crew, she'd managed to shoo everyone else out of the observation deck, and began smiling a little too recklessly, a little too dangerously, when Thane was the only one she stopped from leaving. His nerves prickled as she tugged him back over the threshold and punched the door control.

"Siha," he said, his voice low, while the door snicked shut.

"Like the outfit?" She traced over her own shoulders with both hands, looking down to survey herself. "You've been eyeing it all night."

"Perhaps I have."

"It coordinates with yours, come to think of it."

It did. He half suspected Kasumi of doing that on purpose. "Yes. It suits you."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "So is that flattery or vanity?"

Thane smiled. She was a sharp one, even after a few drinks. Thane let his hand briefly brush her hip, listening to the intake of her breath. "Some part of both," he admitted. "But it's more than that."

He took the opportunity to study her again while she took that in. Shepard had struck, perhaps subconsciously, a very different pose than usual, one that seemed to be all curves - something purely feminine, but without hiding her strength or a single one of her scars. Thane backed further into the room, making her follow him, mostly just to have an excuse to watch her walk.

"I've seen you in many guises, Siha," he told her, once she reached the window. He watched her a moment against the glimmering backdrop of the stars. "Soldier. Spectre. Even diplomat." She snorted faintly. "Of your own style, I grant you. But still…you make of yourself a different instrument each time."

Shepard frowned slightly, as if she was trying to read where this was going. He smiled again, more slowly.

"Seeing you like this… is new," he explained. "When your only purpose is to be, and you take pride in your body for its own sake…."

His hands settled on her hips, stroking the supple leather and guiding her closer.

"It excites me," he said, his voice low and rough.

Shepard's eyelids fluttered, but didn't quite close. She was still staring at him, her breathing elevated. Thane felt her own hands light upon him, and then a much more intimate kiss of contact as she let her hips arch against his. She smiled mischievously. "It sure does," she breathed.

Thane made a low, reverberant sound. Warmth pulsed deep within him, and he allowed himself enough surrender of control to obey, in this moment, its whims. Shepard gasped as he backed her against the window, seeking and taking a deep, intense kiss that tasted of bourbon and the slight tang of blood from her cracked lip. Desire flooded through him.

In return, Shepard bent one leg as if to cinch it around him, but paused; the skirt was simply too tight. Thane's hand slid down and found a solution: the skirt zipped up the side, and was already partway undone. He gripped the slider and tugged straight up, producing a satisfying, almost tearing sort of sound.

Shepard groaned. She'd already gone quivery and liquid all over from the toxin of his kiss, but still she coiled around him with doubled enthusiasm, rocking ever closer.

The warmth of her was almost palpable. Thane gripped her tightly, their hips grinding, and the sounds she made - distinctly human, and still not what he expected in such a moment, but gloriously, unabashedly sensual - made him even harder. "Thane," she whispered, her breath hot against his lips. "You know what's even better than all this tight leather?"

Her hands kept roaming over his body, a potent distraction; it was difficult even to force the words out. "Tell me."

She tugged off his jacket, dropped it onto the floor and murmured her answer against his neck. "I'd rather show you."

He groaned, head falling back. The pleasure of such an intimate touch rippled through him, leaving him for that moment something utterly primal; his breath and blood throbbed in answer to nothing but need. He wasn't consciously aware of Shepard working on his own buckles and zippers until they were open, and he felt the sudden release of pressure, the air, her deft, hot fingers. Thane thrust into her touch, then groaned, then _growled, _and control returned to him like a roaring, living thing. He moved so swiftly Shepard had no counter for it. With a quick, efficient flip, he drove her to the floor and knelt above her, poised to strike. From the way she moaned - and not from pain - and the way she smiled when he rucked up her tight skirt, he knew she hadn't even been trying to make it a contest.

The rest of the proof was her flesh itself, flushed and wet and exposed to his sight.

"Come on," she whispered, shameless in her immodesty. She was breathing hard, breasts straining against the tight dress. The idea that she'd planned for this, waited for this…. "Come on."

He did as desire demanded, and didn't stop until there was no more breath to be spared. It ended with a silent, convulsive shout, and a burst of biotic pressure that tipped and shattered the glasses on the bar. Over the sound of splintering glass, he heard Shepard cry out his name, and he forced his eyes to open so he could watch her go, coming for him again and again.

It took a deliciously long time.

They lay in a tangle afterwards, their bodies still joined, with the taste of her sweat and her soft, fading cries on his tongue. Her heartbeat was still hammering beneath his own. He kissed her gently, feeling her arch into it one more time. "Siha," he whispered. "Gods…."

She shivered in a way he could feel absolutely everywhere. Then, after a long, deep breath, she actually laughed. "I think I need to wear this dress more often," she said hoarsely.

"Please do." His lips curved against hers. "On missions, if possible."

She moved against him, slick flesh sliding over his in the sort of way that made his blood throb again. "Mmm. And so we learn your kinks, Sere Krios. Sex and violence, leather and skin, the sizzle of biotics and adrenaline…."

He took the hint and let his own power flare again. Shepard moaned, shifting helplessly as the blue light flickered over her skin. "God," she breathed. "Do you know how good that feels?"

His voice dropped to a low rasp. "I'm feeling it from the inside out. You have no idea."

She groaned at the thought, sounding half envious and half pleasured. "I've got _some_ idea." She twisted her hips against him. "'Cause I'm feeling…. kind of a lot from the inside, too."

_Indeed, _he thought, with a tinge of self-satisfaction. He pulled back just a little, enough so that she felt it fully when he thrust back against her. Shepard made another exquisite moan. "How _do _you get so hard again so fast…?"

"Biology may be on my side." Thane smiled again. "But it has a lot to do with you."

Shepard took that in, then made her own move. Thane judged her intent and rolled with it when she pushed, landing on his back with Shepard straddling him. "Now that's flattery," she said, voice warm. "And you know what?"

She rolled her hips, making him moan this time and smirking every bit as recklessly as she had when she began.

"It excites me," she said.

Thane laughed. Light crackled from his hands to caress her skin again, making her squirm in all sorts of wonderful ways. "I hoped you'd say that," he told her. And with a laugh of her own she set to work - fierce and wild and electric above him, irresistible, and every bit his match.


End file.
